Not Alone
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: Post-"Sexy." There's only one person Santana wants to talk to right now.


A/N: This takes place immediately post-"Sexy." I know the plot has been done more than once at this point, but I started writing it the night the episode aired and decided I would post anyway.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

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**Not Alone**

Santana sat behind the wheel of her car, wiping hopelessly at the tears streaking steadily down her face.

She had never felt more vulnerable in her life. She'd offered Brittany her heart, and the blonde-haired girl had rejected it. Santana had poured her feelings out, expecting her best friend to reciprocate immediately. After all, wasn't it always Brittany who wanted more from _them_? Who wanted to talk about their feelings and didn't understand the wall Santana had built up?

And Brittany had shut her down. Not because she was afraid of what people would say, but because of Artie.

Fucking _Artie Abrams._

As much as Santana would love to punch the kid, cripple or no, she knew such an action certainly wouldn't win her any favors with his girlfriend. Besides, it was Santana's own attitude toward the 'Best Friends With Benefits' relationship that had sent Brittany to Artie in the first place.

Absentmindedly, she chewed on a fingernail.

She needed to talk to someone. Not any of the other girls, and certainly not the guys. Miss Holiday sprang to mind, but she thought the woman was probably running low on advice at this point.

No, there was only one person she knew of that might be able to help her now.

Pulling her phone out of her bag and scrolling through her contacts list, she silently thanked whoever had programmed this number into her phone at some point the year before.

She never thought she would have to use it.

Halfway through the third ring, someone picked up.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey. Can I come over? I really need someone to talk to."

**:**

The neighborhood was nice, Santana noticed as she cruised down the street, keeping an eye out for wayward children.

So was the house. She double-checked the address and parked by the curb, flipping the mirror down to check her make-up. It was a bit damaged by her crying fit, but a thirty second touch-up fixed the worst of it.

Sighing, she climbed out of the car and stalked through the yard, ringing the doorbell firmly before she could change her mind.

The door swung open to reveal Kurt, dressed rather casually in an oversized sweater and skinny jeans.

He offered her a small smile.

"Hey."

Her lips trembled in a weak imitation of his expression.

"Hi."

He held the door open wider and stepped aside. "Come on in. No one else is home right now, in case you were wondering."

The words unspoken drifted between them: _wondering a__bout Finn._

Santana followed Kurt inside, her eyes drifting around. There were pictures hanging in the hallway; some of Finn, others of Kurt. There was one of the Hudmel family that had clearly been taken around Christmas.

"Do you want something to eat?" Kurt called from further inside, and Santana followed his voice to the kitchen. Kurt's head was stuck inside the open fridge.

"No, I'm okay." Santana fidgeted, beginning to wonder why she had come at all. She and Kurt were anything but close, had barely ever exchanged more than a few words.

"Water?" He was standing in front of her, a bottle held out as an offering.

She took it. "Thanks."

"Let's go up to my room." His own drink dangling from two fingers, he led the way upstairs and halfway down the hall to a bedroom.

It was tastefully decorated, understated but welcoming, and somewhat gender-neutral, the large poster of Julie Andrews in 'The Sound of Music' excepting. The bed was made neatly and Santana noticed Kurt's textbooks lined up on his desk.

She hesitated on the threshold. "I like it."

Kurt's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. He watched her for a moment, apparently trying to decide if she was being sarcastic, before shrugging and murmuring a quick 'thank you' as he pulled a winged chair out of the corner and flopped into it.

"You can sit on the bed if you want."

Santana slid her shoes off and settled onto the end of the bed, folding her legs underneath her.

There was an awkward silence.

Santana's fingers twisted around the plastic bottle. "How's Delton?"

"Dalton," Kurt corrected automatically. "And it's fine." He paused. "But you didn't come over to chat about my school, Santana."

She shook her head and swallowed. "I wanted to talk…about relationships."

Kurt nodded; this much had been relayed over the phone. "You're dating Sam, right?"

She nodded and bit her lip. "Must be kind of hard to keep up with all the changing couples." Before he could respond, she blurted, "I wanna break up with him."

"And you need my help with that?" He frowned. "I would think you'd be better at that than me; I've never had a boyfriend before, and you have."

"Kurt, I…" Gathering her courage, she let out a long breath. "It's about Brittany."

Kurt didn't look surprised. "I see."

"I told her I loved her…and that I wanted to be with her." Santana ducked her head, the heat rushing to her cheeks as she remembered Brittany's response. When Kurt didn't reply right away, she chanced a glance upward.

He was watching her carefully, his chin resting on his hand.

"Congratulations," he said finally. "You've taken the first step toward being honest with yourself. What did Brittany say?"

Santana shook her head and regretted it immediately as Kurt's face softened.

"No! I mean, she told me she loved me, too…but she won't break up with Artie."

"And you expected her to?"

His tone was gentle but probing, and Santana frowned.

"Well…yeah."

Kurt took a sip of water.

"You can love more than one person at the same time, you know. Homosexual love isn't any different than hetero."

"I just…I told her everything! I opened up and admitted I was willing to out myself for her…and she blew me off! It should have been such a big moment, but it fell flat."

Kurt nodded and looked at her almost shyly from under his bangs.

"Coming out to my dad last year was one of the scariest moments of my life. It was after the one football game McKinley won. I said, 'I'm gay,' and expected some kind of explosion or earthquake or clap of thunder…and my dad just said 'I know.'" He laughed shortly. "Can you believe it? He knew. It takes a lot of courage to tell the people closest to you, Santana. What you have to decide now is whether you're going to wait for Brittany or move on and open yourself to other possibilities."

"You mean…spread the news?" Santana didn't mean for her pitch to rise, but it did.

"Maybe. I'm not going to pretend it isn't hard. It _sucks_. Just look at what I've been through. But I feel better knowing at least I'm not hiding who I am."

Santana bit her lip. "I'm just…scared."

In one motion, Kurt crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the Latina. She stiffened, shocked, but relaxed tentatively into the embrace.

"I know you and I have never been close," Kurt told her, pulling back. "But I am here for you no matter what, okay? You _don't_ have to go through this by yourself."

Santana smiled sadly at him. "But _you _did."

"I," Kurt said, settling himself onto the bed next to his fellow ex-Cheerio, "have had awesome friends who stand up for me. And you do, too. Remember, you're not alone."


End file.
